


Special

by Schediaphilia



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: ADHD coding, Cluster B Personality Disorder coding, Creepy, Delusions, Gaslighting, Hand & Finger Kink, Lots of delusions, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction, Pompous Pep, Stalking, Themes of excusing or justifying abuse from the narrator, To an absolutely alarming degree, Uncontrolled Cluster B Personality Type Symptoms, Unreliable Narrator, Vlad basically swoops in like Mary Poppins with his Magic Maladaptive Delusion Bag, ask me to tag if I missed something, fire and ice cores, im sorry, sexual abuse of a minor, there's a lot of fucky shit going on here, who is a piece of shit garbage person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schediaphilia/pseuds/Schediaphilia
Summary: Vlad likes to watch people. Rarely, he likes to watch up close.





	Special

**Author's Note:**

> ~~~ TRIGGER WARNING ~~~  
> Because I don't know what to tag this to accurately explain what you're getting into, I'll try to summarize the theming below so you don't get into something you're going to be triggered by.
> 
> Adult Children of Narcissists and other survivors of narcissistic abuse, tread extremely carefully. 
> 
> THEMES:  
> Justification of abuse
> 
> Justification of sexual abuse
> 
> Justification of physical abuse
> 
> DARVO (Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender. A form of justifying abuse by pinning the blame on the victim.)
> 
> Justification of manipulation
> 
> Justification of boundary stomping (When an abuser disregards someone's personal autonomy due to believing their wants are more important than the victim's comfort or needs.) 
> 
> Golden Child/Scapegoat Dynamic (Wherein the victim is perfect and can do no wrong when it fits the abuser's goals but does everything wrong when it doesn't fit the abuser's goals.) 
> 
> Gaslighting
> 
> Vlad exhibits a mixture of narcissistic and borderline personality traits, but those traits in and of themselves are not meant to be interpreted negatively. Nevertheless, if you have a Cluster B personality disorder, this fic may be triggering as the narrator is highly uncontrolled and uses his disorder to justify his behavior. 
> 
> There are several lines which mirror common excuses sexual abusers use in real life, specifically regarding it being okay because the victim is "special", "mature", or that they "just wanted to help". Please avoid if such rhetoric is triggering to you.
> 
> All of these themes are presented without opposition due to the nature of the narration. Basically, if six pages of an abuser justifying his behavior with no consequences or rebuttal sounds triggering to you, please avoid reading this or read it with caution. 
> 
> \------------
> 
> Notes: 
> 
> This was inspired heavily by songs like [Stalker by RECOIL](https://youtu.be/4QE0wcfNYbo), [An Earnest and Unrequited Love, Wanting to Make it Bear a Little Happiness by Utata-P](https://youtu.be/JV-494kWBhw) and [Can't Stand You by VocaCircus](https://youtu.be/YSGEwAHcVUE). 
> 
> If everything goes to plan, there will be a second chapter.

He was so quiet like this. 

Vlad settles down, a gloved hand brushing gently over a felt blanket, over the boy lying there. He looked so peaceful like this, breathing in rhythmically, his chest rising and dropping slowly. Normally, he was anything but quiet and peaceful. Energetic, anxious, aggressive, infuriatingly self-assured are all words that could be used to describe the boy sleeping before Vlad. Quiet wasn’t a word he’d use. Not now. 

Perhaps at first. Before Vlad found out he was the ghost meddling with his plans, before Vlad had fought him for the first time. 

Vlad didn’t regret many things in his life. He regrets not double-checking Jack’s calculations. He regrets never telling Maddie how he felt before the accident. He regrets mishandling his words, or perhaps his actions, with Maddie. He had been certain that Maddie, of all people, would come to her senses if he was genuine. He had been certain if he just appealed to her intellect, which he knew all too well she possessed in abundance, she would realize he was better than Jack. 

He regrets lashing out at her. It isn’t her fault. She’s spent so many years now cleaning up after Jack’s mistakes, spent so much time helping Jack turn every failure into a success. She’s spent so long spending so much of her energy on making Jack’s dreams come true that she’s forgotten her own. And it’s not as if Vlad can blame her for that, that was simply the fault of her kindness. It’s simply her nature. Without her, Jack would be nothing, a bumbling idiot with a prototype that wouldn’t even turn on if he was lucky, or even worse-- an optimist who’d met an untimely death from one of his own inventions. 

She’s a kind person, she has so much love to give, and so much prowess. It’s only natural for such a kind-hearted woman to take pity on someone like Jack, to lift him up and protect him from himself. Tragically, in the process of helping him, she loses a piece of herself. And she’s so self-sacrificing, so empathetic that she doesn’t mind. 

Vlad slowly, hesitantly, traces his hand along the blanket, memorizing the feeling of the boy’s diaphragm expanding and retracting. He memorizes what he sounds like when he’s still full of life. 

Daniel was so much like his mother.

He had her skin. Vlad narrows his eyes slightly when he leans in closer to Daniel’s face. No, he had had her skin. Her skin was olive, rich, and in the summer she had this beautiful glow about her. She always had that, but her sun-kissed skin was such a sight in contrast to the red undertones of her cheeks, the tip of her nose. She was warm, warm all around. 

Daniel, on the other hand, was quite cool. He had those red undertones, a natural rouge almost imperceptibly dusting his cheeks, but he was paler. 

Though Vlad suspects he knows the answer, he finds himself gently gathering the blanket in his fist and pulling it away. He works slowly not out of necessity but out of respect. He’s not entirely sure why, but to act callous in this situation makes him feel sick to his stomach. It’s unfair. 

Vlad notes, as he pulls away the blanket and dropping it to the floor, that tonight Daniel was wearing a t-shirt and boxers to bed. That wasn’t so unusual, if Vlad were to extrapolate the data, he thinks Daniel wears a plain shirt and boxers to bed much more often than his pajamas. He seemed to overheat easily, kicking and fussing in his sleep, awkwardly pushing off his socks in the middle of the night. 

Daniel is in a strange sort of pose, but nothing that unusual for a sleeping teenager, Vlad supposes. Daniel’s future chiropractors likely wouldn’t be impressed with the way his right arm was up over his head, bent to cradle his head from under his pillow. Nor would they appreciate the way he somehow managed to fall asleep with one leg bent upwards, the joint supporting it despite his slack muscles. That was a quirk of him, he was an unorthodox sleeper. He slept deeply when he managed to sleep, but he seemed to struggle with falling asleep and he never looked particularly comfortable. 

Vlad wonders if Daniel slept well before he’d died. He wonders if his skin bronzed in the summer instead of burning. 

Vlad couldn’t be sure. After the accident, Vlad became a touch paler. That could be easily explained as weeks in the hospital, ensuing months of isolation. It could be explained as his eyes playing tricks on him, the white hair that reminded him of Jack’s failure making him seem so much paler. Before, he felt his skin was warm. Never like Maddie’s, but never cold. He had hated it. He hated waking up every morning and looking at himself, a pallid face framed by white, he hated looking as dead as he felt. 

It suits Daniel. It suits Vlad, but it took him a long time to come to that realization. His appearance lead to unexpected benefits. His hair seemed to evoke a certain wisdom beyond his years, people responded much more positively to the twenty-something who seemed much older than he was. Of course, after making his first investments, he also consulted a personal stylist. The same reasons he hated his appearance soon became his selling points. 

He was ethereal, that was word word she’d used-- what was her name? Angela? She’d said his image evoked a certain authority, a certain energy that felt beyond human. She was probably joking when she said he could probably fit in anywhere as long as he acted like he belonged. It was all too simple to merely wander into the offices of executives with a tailored suit and air of confidence, all too simple to charm them into a friendly business relationship with his fledgling company. 

Slowly, Vlad reaches out to Daniel’s left hand and grasps it, pulling it up to his eyes. Vlad holds Daniel’s hand in both hands and firmly runs his thumb along Daniel’s wrist and follows the soft curve of his flesh up into his palm. He swipes his thumb outwards, struggling to focus his eyes onto the soft glow of green and red that illuminated the boy. Vlad supposes the lights didn’t need to be off. Daniel wouldn’t be waking up any time soon. But it felt wrong somehow to turn the lights on, to see him with no obstacle. Through cameras was much different, it was fine to see him in the light then. But not when he was next to him, not when he was watching him. 

Blue veins. That’s what he’d thought. Though he can’t tell for sure with the only light being himself and what little moonlight poured through the window of Daniel’s bedroom, he felt confident in his assessment. Maddie’s were green. That’s why green suits her so well, her complexion is warm, summery. 

Despite confirming his suspicion, sating his curiosity, Vlad’s hands linger on Daniel’s palm and wrist. He swipes his thumb again along the spongy ligaments, presses gently. His skin is a bit rough here, right at the spot before his palm dips into his wrist. The side of his thumb as well was a bit rough. Overall, he is much softer than he’d assumed a teenage boy would be. But Daniel is full of surprises. Vlad had long learned not to take the boy at face value. 

Carefully, Vlad closes his eyes and brings Daniel’s hand to him, to cup the side of face. He shivers a bit when his skin makes contact with his, relaxing his head into Daniel’s hand while propping it up. Daniel was warm. Cooler than he’d thought he’d be, but still warm. 

He slides his face down, pressing his ear to that same rough patch on Daniel’s palm and he waits. At first, there’s nothing. He focuses, and listens carefully. He hears a thump then, that rhythmic and tell-tale evidence of life. Even though moments before he couldn’t hear it, when he tunes into Daniel’s heartbeat it’s as if he can feel it. Somehow, it seems to grow louder the longer he listens, and the blood rushing under depressed skin feels almost like it is itself thrumming. 

Vlad was just satisfying his curiosity. He had no clandestine intentions after all. It was only natural to like listening to someone’s heartbeat. Skinship, skin-contact are important. They’re vital to a human to survive. There’s research that people who have less contact with others die younger. There’s research that listening to heartbeats are calming, a natural anxiety reliever. There’s research that listening to someone’s heartbeat is akin to the intimacy of looking them in the eyes. But right now, Vlad couldn’t look him in the eye. For multiple reasons. Daniel wouldn’t want to look at his eyes, anyway, so the point was moot. This would have to do. 

Vlad wonders if Daniel was awake if the limp fingers the barely grazed his hair would be curled, pressing into his scalp. He’d push him away, probably. It was difficult for Daniel to understand Vlad’s intentions and it was only natural for him to lash out, to defend himself. 

Vlad wonders if he’d asked Daniel outright if he could look at his skin, his wrists, his hands, what would he say? He would probably think he was a weirdo, or a fruit loop as he often liked to put it. He’d probably be suspicious of Vlad, maybe even think he had ulterior motives. Vlad wishes then that he was able to understand him. He wishes he knew the magic words to get Daniel to understand. 

Vlad didn’t want to hurt him. Not really. Daniel can’t help but hurl himself headfirst into opposing him, can’t help but fight anyone who is hurting others. It’s admirable on some level. Vlad could never truly understand why someone would go out of his way to help someone he didn’t know. Friends, family, perhaps someone with social influence, those were all understandable. But Daniel protected strangers, wraiths who had fought him mere days before. 

Daniel really is like Maddie. 

They must see the world differently, he thinks. They’re special. They’re kind, far too kind, and they give and they give and they give and they don’t even see that they’re losing pieces of themselves. Their time, their intellect, their attention. They didn’t even see that the people they tear themselves to pieces for don’t appreciate it. They can’t see that they’re special. The people of Amity Park, the weak phantasms, Jack-- none of them can see what they’re giving to them. No one else can see. No one else understands the gravity, no one knows well enough to be grateful except for him. 

Daniel can’t help but hurt himself. 

It was regrettable that Vlad couldn’t get through to him, that he had to resort to fighting him. He didn’t want to hurt him. He just wishes he could understand how he sees things. He wishes Daniel could see how ungrateful, undeserving so many people are. If Daniel’s going to hurt himself, going to tear himself apart over and over again, it should be for Vlad. They think so poorly of him, they’re so fickle.

Vlad wishes that he could just ask. He wishes that Daniel’s fingers would tighten in his hair. He wishes that he wasn’t suspicious of him. He wishes that he could touch him when he was wake and he wouldn’t lurch away, he wouldn’t hit him, he wouldn’t yell, he wouldn’t scream. He wishes that when Daniel fights, when his pale arms are littered with bruises, when his neck is black and blue, that all of it was for him. He wishes that Daniel would tear himself to pieces for him if he asked, so that Vlad could relish knowing it was all for him. He deserves it. He’s the only one who deserves it. 

Vlad gulps, despite not needing to in his ghost form. Shakily, he tells himself that perhaps that’s enough for today. He didn’t stand to gain any particular insight into Daniel he didn’t already know. He knows a lot about him. He prides himself on that. He knows that he wakes up at six o’clock every morning, excepting holidays and weekends. He knows that he had an exceptional fondness for space. He knows that he often stares at his homework assignments for hours, he knows he mumbles to himself over and over that he needs to get it done. He knows that he showers around seven in the evening and that he retires to his bedroom at eight. He knows that he stares up at the ceiling for hours after he lies down, and he knows that some nights he crawls out of bed with heavy limbs and uses his computer. 

He knows that on those nights Daniel tends to look at things he shouldn’t be. But that’s natural, to be curious. It’s natural to seek relief, to try and relax, and it’s natural to want to see intimacy, romance, sex. It’s natural to feel aroused, to feel good. It’s healthy. 

He knows that Daniel isn’t straight. He’s not presumptuous enough to attempt to label him, but he knows he likes men and women. He knows that he doesn’t last long, but that’s normal for a boy his age. Vlad doesn’t watch him then, of course. He’d seen glimpses while reviewing recorded footage, but it wasn’t as if he watched him intentionally. He did listen, occasionally. 

Vlad sighs and puts Daniel’s hand back at his side and grabs his blanket from the floor. Almost immediately, his skin feels cold. But Vlad knows he isn’t cold. Vlad is a solid 99.5 degrees fahrenheit. He’d run enough tests to confirm that didn’t change and that it probably wouldn’t change. Vlad also knows that Daniel’s temperature ranges from 96.4 to 97.6 degrees, he knows that at 97 degrees or more Daniel becomes miserable. That was akin to a fever for him. 

Vlad isn’t cold. If anything, Daniel cooled him down a bit. Somehow, his body doesn’t seem to listen to logic, reason, or evidence, and he feels bitterly cold as he gazes down at Daniel. 

Vlad can’t deny that Daniel is attractive. “Attractive” isn’t a powerful enough word for it, though. “Attractive” is too immodest, too brusque. Beautiful is a better word. Perfect. Sublime. But he isn’t a predator. He isn’t the kind of man who preys on young boys. Daniel is different. He’s special. It’s not his age. Vlad isn’t that fickle. 

Vlad stands, blanket in hand, and stares down at Daniel once more. He hasn’t really moved his position, he’s sleeping far too deeply for that. It was a medicine, of sorts. Partially supernatural in nature and partially pharmaceutical. Vlad had many sleepless nights himself, he’d made it for himself years ago. Daniel was much smaller, and Vlad wasn’t really a doctor, so he admittedly botched the dosage the first time. It was difficult to accurately measure an inhalant, especially when you’re administering it an in unorthodox way. Vlad had just wanted to help him sleep, but he knew Daniel would be suspicious if he told him. It’s a liquid, but it wouldn’t be wise to ingest it directly, inhalation and skin contact is more than enough. So he’d snuck in when he was showering and placed a few drops on his pillow. 

He had left then, but he didn’t leave Amity Park. He wandered for a bit but quickly grew bored. It was fine to check that it had worked, that Vlad had helped, so he went back. He could’ve checked from outside his window, Vlad supposes, but he stood by his bedside like he was now. He was sleep. So deeply asleep that the wisp of his ghost senses slipping past his lips didn’t wake him up. Naturally, that made Vlad curious, so he got closer. He poked him, he ran his hand over his legs through his blanket, he touched his hair, his face, his lips. 

He hadn’t intended to knock him out, make him unresponsive. Not the first time. 

Tonight he did it on purpose. 

The last five times he did it, it had been on purpose. 

It wasn’t harmful to him, and besides, he needed the rest. He seemed happy, peaceful. In a way, it was for his own good. Vlad was just satisfying his curiosity, what was wrong with watching him? What was wrong with looking at him? It’s only natural to want to get close to people. 

Vlad stares down at him, eyes moving over him head to toe, over and over again. He didn’t want to leave. At any other time, he wouldn’t stay still long enough to let him appreciate him. Like this, he was perfect. 

No, no, Vlad shakes his head. Not entirely perfect. It was close, but it didn’t count. Not really. He should leave. He should replace his blanket and just leave, just go home. If anyone were to see him, what would they think? Of course Vlad knows he doesn’t intend to do anything, but it’d be easy to to think he’s not trying to help Daniel. It’d be easy to think that maybe he wants to hurt him, maybe he’s a predator. It’d be easy to get the ridiculous idea that Vlad is the kind of man who would take advantage of a situation like this. 

Wordlessly, Vlad drops the blanket and sinks back down, sitting with his hands in his lap. For a moment, he just looks down at his hands. He thinks about the feeling of Daniel’s pulse on his fingers, in his ear, he thinks about touching his skin, maybe even his lips without gloves on. Without being Plasmius. Somehow, he had this feeling that that was breaking some sort of rule. This wasn’t something that would be okay for humans. If they weren’t both halfas, this would be bizarre. Perhaps even inappropriate. 

But it’s natural to want to touch someone. It’s natural to want to hold someone, to feel their skin on your skin. 

Vlad laces his fingers together and tightens them. 

He’s been making a lot of excuses lately. He shouldn’t have to make excuses for himself. He’s not a bad person, and even if he is, so what? He’s not like everyone else. He’s more intelligent, he’s more than human. He can see that Daniel is special, and is it so wrong to want to be close to someone who’s special? It’s different for him. Daniel’s different. Vlad’s different. They’re special. 

They’re special.


End file.
